Görüş açımızı altüst etmeyi öğrenmemiz gerekir. İnsanların genellikle zorluk ya da felaket olarak gördükleri, beddua edip her ne pahasına olursa olsun kaçındıkları her şey, aslında ölüm psikolojisini yaşam psikolojisine dönüştürmeyi sağlayacak değerli deneyimlerdir.
Life through this world is a School for Gods.
Confusion, doubt, chaos, crisis, anger, despair and pain are all excellent conditions for growth.
Dünyadaki yaşam, bir “Tanrılar Okulu”dur.
Karışıklık, şüphe, kargaşa, kriz, öfke, umutsuzluk ve acı; büyümek için değerlendirilmesi gereken mükemmel fırsatlardır.
"But for to telle yow al hir beautee,
It lyth nat in my tonge, n'yn my konnyng;
I dar nat undertake so heigh a thyng.
Myn Englissh eek is insufficient.
It moste been a rethor excellent
That koude his colours longynge for that art,
If he sholde hire discryven every part.
I am noon swich, I moot speke as I kan."
................................................................
“Lâkin onun tüm güzelliğini anlatmak,
Ne benim dilimin harcıdır ne de kabiliyetimin;
Böylesi yüce bir işi üstlenmeye cüret etmem.
İngilizcem de yetmez zaten.
Onu her bir detayıyla aktaracaksa kişi,
Bu sanata uygun mecazları bilen,
Mükemmel bir belagat ustası olmalıdır o halde.
Böyle biri değilim ben, dilimin yettiğince konuşurum."
-Canterbury Hikâyeleri
Sayfa 31 - The Canterbury Tales
Ich schätze meine Vergangenheit gegen meine Zukunft, finde aber beide vortrefflich, kann keiner von beiden den Vorzug geben...
I weigh my past against my future and find both excellent; I can give preference to neither...
They have Won
“We’re done being squashed by the House of Morgan and their goldsoaked nobles,” Brados says, “while we starve. We’re taking power for
ourselves.”
At my side, Malleus draws his sword. “Just try.”
Talan raises his hand. “Enough. Put your sword away. You look like an
idiot.”
Malleus flushes and sheathes his sword.
Talan meets Brados’s stare. “You’re right. This country shouldn’t be
ruled by the House of Morgan. In fact, the House of Morgan has never ruled
this kingdom.”
Brados stares at him. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Auberon lied. The throne was never his. Mordred is not his father. He
descends from Merlin.”
“Do we really need to worry about old history?” Aedan blusters.
“It’s true,” I say. “Mordred, son of Morgan, is still alive on Avalon. I am
his daughter. He told me this himself.”
“You’re lying,” Brados says coldly.
“Ask your advisor,” I say calmly. “She saw Mordred only yesterday.
They got along very well, actually.”
Brados turns to Nivene in shock. She purses her lips and gives him a
tiny nod.
“Well, then this makes it even clearer,” Brados says. “We’re not going
to let Mordred, whom none of us has seen in over a millennium, rule over
us. And we definitely won’t let a family of liars rule, either.”
“Neither will we,” Aedan says, his oily voice sharp and dangerous.
“Clearly, the strongest noble family should take charge. Farmers and
peasants don’t know how to run a kingdom.”
“The most powerful noble family?” Malleus raises his voice. “And who
would that be? My father holds the largest army—”
“Your father has the plague, boy,” Aedan spits.
“He’s already getting better—”
Last stand of a bride who does not want to be married
“Right, then.” Griflet hands us each a hot, steaming mug of tea. “A
royal wedding. Customarily, the gods demand a sacrifice of a dozen wild
boars and the release of five hundred white pigeons. I don’t have any of
those on hand.” He drops down into a wooden chair across from us. Next to
him stands a rough-hewn table strewn with papers.
Talan leans back, utterly relaxed, and drapes one arm over the back of
the sofa. Even seated, his powerful presence dominates the room.
Sometimes, I get the sense that the whole world exists for his entertainment.
“We don’t have time for the boars and birds.” Talan’s deep voice thrums
over my skin. “My father means to arrange for my marriage tomorrow,
whether I’m there or not.”
I clear my throat. Here’s my chance for a delay. “On the other hand, we
can’t afford not to. If Auberon realizes we skipped the boars and the
pigeons, he could pronounce that we aren’t truly married. Surely we want to
follow the ancient traditions for members of the royal family.”
“Five hundred pigeons?” Talan narrows his eyes at me. “Do you have
any idea how long it would take to organize that?”
“Lady Nia is quite right,” Griflet says, gripping his little leather bag like
his life depends on it. “Of course, this is all quite symbolic. We could try to
perform the ritual with something symbolizing the pigeons and the wild
boars.”
“Like what?” Talan asks.
“Well, the intent is a sacrifice. We could, for example, sacrifice some
finely baked biscuits and release a chicken from my coop.”
“Are you serious?” I ask.
Griflet nods wildly. “Yes, yes. I’m always serious when it comes to the
gods. The ancient texts permit me some leeway. It’s about the intent, you
see.”
“Excellent.” Talan runs his tongue over one of his sharp canines. “Let’s
sacrifice the biscuits.”
Griflet
“Excellent friend! how sincerely you did love me, and endeavor to elevate my mind until it was on a level with your own .”
